


Quick Fix

by stray_words



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 2RACHA, Comfort, Cuddling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Minho is basically a god but when is he not, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 17:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17492312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stray_words/pseuds/stray_words
Summary: It was common knowledge that the producer line didn’t get home until the obscene hours of the morning, when Woojin’s snores weren’t even heard. But it was only known to three of them that Minho was the one to nurse their bodies that were on the verge of breakdown back to health.ORMore hurt comfort? I think yes.





	Quick Fix

Living together with someone was a sure way to get to know all their traits, good or bad. This applied to a band of nine boys too; they’d been together so long that everyone knew roughly when bedtime was for each member, and who was the loudest sleeper. Who shouldn’t be talked to in the morning, and who was safe. 

It was common knowledge that the producer line didn’t get home until the obscene hours of the morning, when Woojin’s snores weren’t even heard. But it was only known to three of them that Minho was the one to nurse their bodies that were on the verge of breakdown back to health. 

The dancer would usually start by taking care of everyone else, tucking them in when everyone retired late after dinner. To keep himself busy, Minho would normally take it upon himself to wash the dishes or fold some laundry, using it as an excuse to stay up just long enough after the rest had fallen asleep. Then he’d lay on the couch with the TV playing on the lowest volume, soft blue light just lighting the living room enough so that the late-arrivers were able to see when they got in. 

Jisung was an early riser, so it usually was not him to get in at 3 or 4am. Most commonly it was Changbin; Chan would be doing other things, like producing or dance practice with the rest of the band, so he was more often pulled back to the dorms by the rest of them. Changbin was more one for solitude. 

Changbin was a pretty shifty person. Despite being talented like no one had seen before, he could be moody and hostile- most of it was due to his lack of sleep and suffering of insomnia. Changbin was the most prone to hole himself up in the studio for even longer periods of time than Chan would, easily forgoing human interaction and eating for 48 hours. The rapper would have a lot more substance to his body if he ate more regularly. 

Tonight, it was Chan and Changbin. 

If Minho dozed off on the couch, he’d either wake due to the not-so-quiet banging the others would make when they entered- the only perk of being a light sleeper- or if someone woke him. Most of the time it would be Chan to tell Minho to go to bed. 

Minho knew the leader wasn’t stupid. That meant Chan knew himself that if he just left Minho on the couch, the dancer would stay asleep and not wake up. But instead, Chan would always nudge Minho’s shoulder to tell him to wake up to go off to bed. The words were always broken and whimpered with no conviction; and Chan was extra allowing when Minho told him no and began his amending. 

When the two had entered Minho hadn’t slept much. He’d napped for about an hour but had woken up when there was an explosion on TV, and then went to fold laundry. He’d just finished when the door freaked open and the remaining two members returned. 

The first thing Minho heard was keys aggressively jiggling the lock: this signified Changbin, who was always some sort of angry when he got in. Then came loud footsteps and stumbling for Chan. He was desensitized when he got tired, filters and perception out the window. 

Minho immediately stood and quietly padded over on the cold, hard-wood floor to the entryway. Chan was trying to place the keys back on one of the hooks they kept next to coats, and Changbin couldn’t get his parka zipper down. The sight made the dancer smile; the loopiness of his members and what was to ensue, not the part that their vision was probably so blurred they literally were having problems doing normal human functions. 

Quietly, he took Chan’s hand in his own and guided the key ring onto the small sticky hook wire. Then he turned to Changbin and parted his white-knuckled and callused hands from his zipper. "I got it," Minho murmured, pulling down the zipper to his mid-calves while Changbin tucked his chin and watched like a five-year-old. Minho helped him slide the jacket off his shoulders so it could pool around the younger's feet. 

Next he moved to Chan, who’d gotten as far as getting his jacket off. The leader was sitting on the bench they had in the hallway, one shoe tossed to the other wall and his other untied, still on his foot. Chan had his eyes closed and head leaned back on the wall behind him, chapped lips parted to puff breaths. If there was one thing Minho didn’t like about these late night encounters, it was constantly shaking the boys awake when they nodded off while trying to get ready for bed. It wasn’t the sleeping part (Minho was sure nodding off was how they got any sleep anyways) but rather the fact Minho had to wake them up. The dancer hated seeing how taxed and overworked they came in. 

"Hyung, sweetheart," Minho called quietly, and Chan jerked awake with a sniffle. "Can we get this shoe off?" He continued when the leader was mildly focused on his eyes. The blond nodded and blindly thumbed at his laces and then kicked his shoe off. 

Rubbing his eyes, Chan asked, "couch?" 

Minho wouldn’t deny the heat that rose in his chest. After he got them out of their outside clothes, Minho would sit them on the couch and bring them water or a light snack; he found they slept better and deeper if their stomachs were calm and not rumbling. "Yes, baby. I’ll be there in a second." Minho helped Chan stand up before he set off in the direction of the living room, socked feet dragging against the floor. 

Meanwhile, Changbin had gotten his shoes off and was crouched with his back flush to the wall, eyes lethargically opening and closing. "Hey, Binnie. Can you get to the couch?" Minho whispered, and Changbin unsurprisingly shook his head. While he was more frustrated when exhausted, Changbin was also pliant and crudely honest. 

"Alright, that’s okay. You’ll feel better soon, love." 

After dumping the younger's shoes into the bins they kept under the bench, Minho hung Changbin’s coat up and then collected the boy into his chest. Changbin was the lightest on the whole team, and in this state was eager to gather warmth; Minho provided, and it was hard to pry Changbin off of him. But Minho knew things like that were the only signs they didn’t actually hate being taken care. Chan waking him regularly. Changbin clinging. Jisung would slur nonsense and demand Minho’s undivided attention, delirium often more prevalent than his sleepiness at this stage of exhaustion. 

It took Minho a few extra seconds to coax Changbin to let go of his neck, but soon enough had him slumping against the couch. Chan was on his phone and scrolling through notifications; by this point, the leader knew he’d get yelled at, and so he did. 

"Bang Chan, give me that," Minho hissed, removing the cold, slim phone from the elder's grasp. Chan just groaned softly, dropping his hands into his lap. "What do we say?" Minho prodded to make Chan sniffle. 

"No phone when we get home." 

A sigh escaped Minho’s lips. As much as he tried, Minho couldn’t be mad, or be firm for that matter, with either of them. "Right. Just watch a little TV, and I’ll be back in a second, okay?" Minho asked, and Chan nodded, back hitting the cushion and head falling back onto the ledge of the couch. From the side, Changbin was curled up, knees to his chest and eyes closed. With a soft kiss to both of their temples, Minho hurried off to the kitchen. 

When Minho returned with two glasses of water and crackers, it didn’t take long for the boys' hunger to get the best of them. They quickly were awake enough to scarf down the food, though Minho had to help Changbin with his glass. He was always a little shaky, and they’ve dealt with objects thrown in frustration before at this time (not to mention glass filled with water). 

At this point, the two were awake enough to walk to their room fairly normally. Minho got them up from the couch after returning the box and glasses back to the kitchen, holding Chan and Changbin’s hand in each of his own. He lead them through the dead silent hall, herding Changbin into their room, and narrowly saving Chan from walking square into the door frame. All the acknowledgement the leader gave that he’d almost killed his head was a soft, grumbling hum as he was righted to walk into his room. 

Another one of the things Minho was most grateful for was the fact that Chan and Changbin shared a room. It was much harder to fit Jisung in his room quietly when he slept with two other people- granted Hyunjin slept like a rock but Seungmin did not. But with isolating the two in their own space allowed a closet light to be turned on, as well as a dim lamp to help guide the boys into bed. It was much easier and risk free to talk to them in their room, and when Jisung came home like this, Minho would more than likely just shove him into bed with Chan. Or himself, if he felt Chan didn’t want to cuddle with someone (a rare occurrence) but five to a room could get uncomfortably hot. 

By now, they knew the drill, and began undressing while Minho retrieved their clothes. The dancer flicked on the closet light, making his own eyes burn for a moment, but quickly grabbed an oversized sleep shirt- rather, Woojin’s shirt Chan had snuck into his closet- and returned to the leader. 

"Min, it’s really cold out tonight," Chan murmured as Minho slipped the shirt over his head and guided his first arm though the sleeve. 

Minho hummed and held out the second arm hole for Chan. "Yeah? Did you want another blanket or something?" He asked, and Chan shook his head. Chan mentioning this was weird, as temperatures never seemed to have any kind of effect on his body. He walked to and from the company without a parka, only wearing it if he had other things to carry. In the summer, he was the last one to complain about the heat. With the leader dressed, Minho picked up his day clothes but turned back to the elder before going to Changbin. "Love?" 

"I... I thought maybe you might get cold, and want to sleep with me?" 

It was too dark to see any sort of color constancy, but Minho could hear the blush off of Chan’s words. Minho was just glad it was dark enough Chan's blurry eyes might not have been able to see the ear-splitting grin he gave. "I think that sounds lovely," he responded, and Chan’s smile was dopey and sleep ridden. 

Minho quickly dumped the clothes into Chan’s hamper and grabbed joggers and a hoodie from Changbin’s wardrobe. One of the things the dancer had learned was that he had to move fast, or they’d fall asleep on him; not the nodding off asleep, but the coma sleep they fell into after laying down. But Changbin was luckily sitting up on the edge of his bed, pants off. 

"Hey sweetheart. Need help with your shirt?" Minho inquired. The only response he was given was Changbin’s arms being thrown up so he was able to lift the long sleeve off of the younger’s body. 

Like he had with Chan, Minho pulled Changbin’s hoodie over him, and then took him by the underarms to haul him up to a standing position. "Hyung?" Changbin asked, either not knowing or caring that Minho was still trying to pull his pants up, no effort from the rapper. 

"Yes, baby?" 

Changbin rubbed his eyes when Minho had finished, and grabbed for the dancer to come closer. "Do you love me?" 

Frowning, Minho brought Changbin to himself. Changbin easily fit his body to the older’s, arms locking around Minho’s neck and face going into his neck. Minho suppressed a surprised jump when Changbin’s cold nose hit his warm skin. "I do, Changbin-ah. Don’t ever doubt it, okay?" Minho said, and felt the younger nod into himself. 

"I thought you’d be mad because I didn’t fold the laundry this time," Changbin confessed, obviously having seen the basket in the living room when he’d sat down. 

Minho couldn’t help but laugh. They all had rotations, and it had been Changbin’s turn for laundry. Minho often took everyone’s turn for it, and in return the others would do his room for him. Minho couldn’t stand cleaning his room. "Baby, don’t be silly. I do everyone’s laundry for them," he reminded before stepping away from Changbin to pull back his covers. 

"Well you missed Seungmin’s. He got mad." 

Minho didn’t have the heart to say that was on purpose. Seungmin had taken and eaten the last of Minho’s chocolate right in front of him, after Minho had told him not to. The only retaliation he had was to “accidentally” skip Seungmin’s laundry turn, and the singer had noticed. While folding clothes didn’t bother Minho, it really irked Seungmin, and the dancer knew it. Used it. 

"I’ll apologize when I see him," Minho lied, kneeling at the side of Changbin’s bed while the rapper curled up. 

Changbin hummed as Minho set the covers over him, making sure to find Gyu. The younger absolutely would not sleep without it. "Don’t, hyung. He teased Innie for not being able to talk right with his braces on." 

Minho loved Changbin even more when he was soft, sleepy, and petty at 3am. But they never spoke about the late night encounters, though they always held promises made during them. And Minho had no problem not apologizing to the singer; Seungmin needed practice folding laundry anyways. "Sounds good, honey. Now you sleep well, okay?" 

Changbin nodded and turned to bare his cheek for the elder to kiss. Minho pressed his lips to the smooth, pale skin before standing and making his way to Chan’s bed, parallel to Changbin’s. 

It was easy slipping into the leader's bed; Chan produced enough warmth to share generously between two people. To Minho’s surprise, the elder was not asleep and shifted so his back was against the wall to accommodate for another person in the twin bed. Chan opened his arms, easily taking the dancer into his hold. 

"Love, are you okay?" Minho questioned as Chan’s hands met his body. When they were normally sure and steady, now they shook almost violently as Chan weakly tried to bring Minho to himself. He whined a soft thing when Minho pulled back. 

"Only tired... Min, please, i want to sleep," the leader murmured. His voice was broken and lacking any authority whatsoever. 

Gathering Chan’s hands in between them, Minho looked Chan in the eye best he could with only dim closet lighting illuminating the room. "You see what happens when you work too late?" The dancer asked, and Chan broke his gaze. "You can’t do this to yourself, baby. Please, it’s not healthy." 

Chan made brief eye contact, deciding to just play it down for the night and nod shyly. He was way too tired to argue with Minho, especially in trying to assert his stance that the band needed Chan to work late, as he got so much more work done that way. But Chan hated arguing, especially with someone who took such great care of him. He used to be teased for following all his mother's rules and never arguing, but it was for the same reason: Chan hated disagreements with people he loved. 

"Min, kiss?" Was all Chan asked, and Minho leaned in without a moments hesitation to capture the leader’s lips in his for a few long seconds. Their noses brushed, pushed up against each other as Minho felt Chan go pliant, giving silent submission to his kiss. After a short breath, the dancer worked at Chan’s lips for a bit, yearning to see the blood-red bitten color in adequate lighting. 

When Minho pulled away and didn’t return, Chan tried to take initiative and start another kiss; but he was stopped when Minho just guided his incoming face into his shoulder, hand going going over his nape to gently scratch his fingers over the downy hair. 

"Baby, can you sleep for me?" 

As best he could, Chan nodded into the dancer's shoulder. "I love you," the leader murmured, a little muffled but point clearly gotten across. Warmth- inside Minho’s body, Chan did plenty enough to heat up his outside- filled Minho he pushed his lower body a little closer to the latter's. Chan responded by taking one of his sandwiched hands and a pulling a little roughly on Minho’s lithe waist so their fronts were flush against each other. 

"I love you more," Minho retorted, and soon sunk into the bed. Chan’s arm went lax over his middle, a small puff of air let out onto Minho’s chest. 

It was extremely evident when Chan fell asleep; not only to someone with him touching every inch of you, but if you just watched him. His body visibly held tension while he was awake. Shoulders always pulled taunt, jaw more than likely clenched down hard, judging from the mouth guard the dentist had given him because the leader was giving himself a jaw condition. Minho remembers walking into Chan working out shirtless (a religious experience in itself) and how even after he rested, his back muscles were always flexed. And Minho listened to a lot of Seungmin’s medical rants; enough to know extra tension in the body was from stress, and caused permanent damage. 

From the other bed, covers were ruffling. At first it stuck Minho as weird, because usually, as soon as their heads hit the pillow they were out. Changbin normally had a fucked sleep schedule, but the waking up at four am didn’t happen when he got home at four am. Feet softly padded across the hardwood floor, and a nudge met Minho’s back. 

"Hyung," came Changbin’s incredibly soft voice, "please can I sleep with you?" 

Knowing Chan wouldn’t wake up, Minho swiftly turned around so his back was to Chan’s chest. Now he could look at Changbin; hoodie absent from his toned chest and sweats low over his hips. Gyu tucked carefully in his arms. "Of course, baby," Minho said, shifting back a little more and opening his arms. From behind him, Chan accommodated by snaking a hand over Minho’s lower stomach and pulling him back. 

If it had been any other person but Changbin, they would not have fit. The rapper was small enough to press every part of his front to Minho (minus Gyu wedged partially by their stomachs) and still have space behind him on the bed so if he moved back a few centimeters, he wouldn’t fall. 

"Hyung," Changbin breathed, nose barely a finger's width from Minho’s. 

The elder cupped Changbin’s cheeks and hummed. Changbin did not miss his eyes drifting down to his lips. 

With a small whine the rapper closed the space and slotted his nose next to Minho’s as he leaned up to kiss him. Minho’s greedy hand left his cheek to push up against Changbin’s spine and back muscles, touching the rapper like he’d never had skin-on-skin contact before; he splayed his hand open, running the palm up the dead center of the younger’s back. Then back down, his fingers dragged across Changbin’s ribs, painfully slowly, all the while licking gently into Changbin’s mouth. 

Minho knew how everyone kissed. Like Woojin knew how people ate, and Chan knew how to approach everyone in any state, Minho had figured out what each member made out like. Seungmin was slow and hesitant, highly inexperienced but quick to catch on. Minho found he’d blush the hardest when his hips were held and was kissed hard until he was breathless. Changbin was different; by no means was he inexperienced, only he came off harder than what he really wanted. Any time Changbin came to Minho, he’d try kissing him fast and hard. Rather, what the dancer found was that he preferred slow, sensual and careful, especially if he was following and not leading. 

They parted for a long moment when Changbin had let out a low whine into the kiss, Minho pulling back. Changbin tried to follow, but submitted when the elder murmured no. "You gotta sleep, baby. We can kiss later." 

"I can’t sleep, and I wanna kiss you now," Changbin said, gruff voice like an order and not a request. 

The elder gave him one condolence kiss, and then guided Changbin’s head into his neck. "I promise you baby, you’re tired. It’s okay, hyung will help you," Minho murmured, and Changbin scoffed, even though he was trying to press impossibly closer to Minho. In a few seconds, he let out a yawn, nuzzling Minho’s soft skin. 

"Goodnight, baby." 

The rapper inhaled Minho’s scent of fabric softener and warmth. "Night, hyung." 

In a few minutes Minho had Changbin to sleep with running his fingers in circles over the younger’s arm. And Minho just existed for a moment; pressed a little uncomfortably warm between two of his favorite people in the world, being held by and holding them. Chan’s nestled face between his shoulder blades, strong hand splayed over Minho’s stomach. Changbin small in his arms, face in his neck and socked feet hooked over Minho’s ankles. 

Minho could barely keep his eyes open he was so tired, but he decided he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> This is gross and short but its wtvr


End file.
